


You Better Put Your Kingdom Up For Sale

by nu_breed



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-13
Updated: 2011-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-19 08:05:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nu_breed/pseuds/nu_breed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of 3x13, Merlin is feeling a little like a fifth wheel. Arthur is not at all okay with this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Better Put Your Kingdom Up For Sale

**Author's Note:**

> Hermette asked weeks ago for a rimming outtake from my Glompfest fic. My brain didn't co-operate and offered established relationship canonfic with rimming instead. Hope this will suffice, bb. ♥ Many thanks to ella_bane, for the quick and dirty beta.

For someone who prides himself on being annoyingly cheerful no matter what the situation, Merlin is exceedingly moody. Arthur thinks that he doesn't even realise how obvious he's being, but he's known Merlin far too long and too well to recognise his mood as anything other than black as pitch.

For one thing, he isn't talking. Merlin talks _constantly_ , whether Arthur wants him to or not, and not even threatening him with the stocks is enough to shut him up most days. Merlin uses words as a way to cope even when things are at their darkest: when they were holed up in the cave and Arthur had given up all hope, Merlin was the one constantly making jokes and trying to lighten the mood.

Merlin hasn't talked like that in days. Arthur would usually be glad of it, any reduction in the mindless prattle that he has to endure on a daily basis, but it feels wrong sitting in silence while Merlin washes the floor and puts out his breakfast and stands on the practice field taking strike after strike without so much as a word. The only time Merlin speaks is to call him "Sire" and ask him if there's anything he can do, and it's so wrong, so utterly unfamiliar and all Arthur wants is the old Merlin back.

It's gotten so bad that he even goes to Gaius for help. Arthur doesn't particularly enjoy asking Gaius for help at all, he always feels like he's being judged by his eyebrows.

"I can't help feeling that he's angry at me," he complains, head supported by his hands.

"What makes you think that, my lord?" Gaius asks, and there go the eyebrows, staring at him like two very judgemental caterpillars. "Do you feel that you may have done something to upset Merlin?"

Arthur groans. He doesn't know why he bothers sometimes. "Just forget it," he mumbles.

Gaius sighs. "Sometimes, your highness, one might be mistaken for thinking that Merlin is nothing but a servant to you, when we all know that couldn't be further from the truth."

"Go on," Arthur says, tense and very slow. He wonders how much Gaius knows. The old man isn't stupid and Arthur has sent Merlin back to his room enough times looking tired and worn-out and bruised from Arthur's mouth.

"Well," he hesitates, "it's obvious to me, Arthur, that you care for Merlin. I think the only one it isn't obvious to sometimes is Merlin."

Arthur snorts. "Of course I care, Gaius. I care that he cleans my socks and polishes my armour and mucks out my horses. Badly, might I add."

"Sire—" Gaius sounds like he's warning him, and Arthur wonders just when it was that he started brooking insubordination to this degree from men who are lesser than him. It's as if he isn't the one with the power anymore.

The roles have been completely skewed ever since Merlin stumbled into his life: bumbling and insulting and so very irresistible. But at the end of the day, Arthur is still his lord and Merlin needs to realise he is still Arthur's employee as well as his subject.

"If Merlin has a problem, Gaius, he should be man enough to tell me himself, instead of acting like a sullen maid who refuses to even speak for himself."

The look that Gaius gives him would probably have struck the Questing Beast dead on the spot if it'd been standing there. It certainly makes Arthur hastily mumble his excuses and leave before he can be struck down with the weight of his glare.

***

Merlin is polishing his sword when Arthur opens the door to his chambers. He looks up briefly, before muttering, "Just be a minute, Sire," and he's had quite enough of this ridiculousness, thank you very much.

He strides over and sits on the corner of the table, and when Merlin doesn't look up Arthur flicks his ear over and over. Merlin hates it when he does that, and while Arthur can see he is doing his best to try and ignore it, he can see it in his face: the set of his jaw, the uncomfortably tense way he holds himself. It doesn't take long for Merlin to flinch and squirm and eventually get up out of his chair and try to leave.

Arthur isn't having any of that, though, and he cuts Merlin off, barricading himself against the door.

"Arthur, just—"

"Just what, Merlin?" Arthur stares him down. "What is wrong with you? You've been moping around like a wounded dairy cow for days now. Not that I don't appreciate the fact that you haven't been prattling on like some halfwit all day long, but, well if I wanted someone efficient and courteous, I wouldn't be employing you."

"Thanks," Merlin says, so sullenly that Arthur wants to hit him.

"For the Gods' sakes Merlin. If I have to see that pout one more time I am going to put you over my knee and spank you!"

It doesn't escape Arthur's notice that Merlin's face reddens and he bites his lower lip. Interesting.

He continues, "And to be quite frank, my wrist is starting to cramp from the attention you're not giving me. So what. Is. Wrong?"

Merlin sighs. "It's nothing. Really."

"Oh for—" Arthur throws his hands up in defeat. "If you want to go, go." He stands away from the door and paces back and forth, waiting for Merlin to at the very least, react. "I can't be bothered with this anymore, Merlin, I have far more important things to worry about and I don't have time to try and placate you when you're sulking about like a child, you know. My knights—"

"Yes." Merlin's tone is clipped and his eyes flash with something very close to anger. "Of course. Your knights. Far be it for me to stop you from attending to your knights. Or, well, you know what I mean, the other way around."

Arthur stops dead in his tracks. Surely that can't be it, surely Merlin can't—

"You can't be serious," Arthur says, cocking an eyebrow. "Please, Merlin, please tell me you're not jealous of my knights."

Merlin inhales sharply. "I'm not. Really. I just wish that— look, if you'd tired of me, Arthur, it would have been nice if you'd told me about it first. Rather than me having to hear about it from someone else, that's all."

Arthur isn't sure he can actually form words, but he manages to repeat what Merlin has just said to him, nonetheless. "Tired of you? What on earth are you talking about, Merlin? Have you completely lost your mind? Granted that would mean you had one to start with, but—"

"Yes, yes, very funny." Merlin looks down at his feet and Arthur can see this is really upsetting him.

"Merlin, I don't—" Arthur stops. Composes himself. "What would possibly make you think I had tired of you? I want to know."

"I can't—"

"If you say you can't tell me who put this ridiculous idea into that thick head of yours, Merlin, I will march you down and put you in the stocks myself, I swear it."

Merlin takes a deep breath. "It was the week after everyone came back to Camelot: Gwen, the new knights, Leon—"

Arthur's gaze is fixed on Merlin. "Go on."

"I heard them talking, Lady Annalise and her maidservant. Lady Annalise was saying how she would like to— that she thought that Gwaine and Percival and Lancelot and Elyan would all make fantastic bedwarmers, given that they're commoners, they would probably know a thing or two that would put a nobleman to shame—"

"Go on," Arthur says, his jaw tight.

Merlin swallows. "Her maidservant said that she had it on good authority that they had already shown their prince a thing or two. That it was no wonder he spent so much time with them these days."

Arthur shakes his head. "Oh, Merlin." He walks over to him and lifts Merlin's chin up. "You are, without a doubt, the biggest idiot I have ever had the fortune of knowing."

"Now look here," Merlin says, sounding annoyed.

"No, _you_ look here. You've never listened to palace gossip before, Merlin, so why now? For one thing, it's a ridiculous rumour which is so blatantly untrue I'm not even going to waste my time trying to find out where it started, and for another— why would you think that— that I have tired of you? I think about you all the time, Merlin, you're very distracting."

"I'm sorry." Merlin looks ashamed. "I think I'm just a bit sensitive, what with the fact that you don't need me anymore to—"

"Of course I bloody need you," Arthur says, fondly. "I need you to scrub my floors and mend my clothes and—"

"Oh, ha ha." Merlin glares at him, and Arthur much prefers it. He can handle a Merlin who is irritated and a bit angry. The one who looks hurt and feels like he isn't good enough? That is a Merlin that Arthur doesn't know what to do with. "You know what I meant."

Arthur puts a hand on the back of his neck. "Merlin, I will always need you. Your protection. That's not ever something you need to concern yourself with. I need you with me completely: by my side and in my bed."

Merlin huffs out a breath when Arthur scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip.

It all makes so much sense now, the way Merlin's been acting. He's been exhausted lately, and while he thinks that Arthur doesn't pay any attention, he does. He can see the dark circles around Merlin's eyes; the way he's been holding himself like it hurts to move. On top of that, feeling like he's been replaced? Well it must have been the last straw.

Arthur is Merlin's world, anyone, even a fool can see that. But Merlin is Arthur's world too. He has to share him with Camelot, that's true, but the mere thought that Merlin would think that Arthur has grown tired of him, that he could throw him aside like a filthy rag? It's unfathomable to him.

If Merlin feels like he doesn't matter, then it's Arthur's duty to show him that he does.

He kisses him then; his hands framing Merlin's face, his thumbs rubbing up and down the lines of Merlin's cheekbones. Merlin opens for him, wet and warm and Arthur feels Merlin's arms come around and stroke down the length of his back. When Arthur pulls away, Merlin's eyes are much wider, much brighter than before.

"Turn around," Arthur says, his voice a little cracked and hoarse. "Face the door, Merlin."

"Why?" Merlin sounds breathless. "What are you going to do to me?"

Arthur runs his thumb over the curve in Merlin's lower lip, and grins.

"I'm going to show you," he says, pressing his mouth to Merlin's ear, tracing the shell with the tip of his tongue, "just how not tired of you I am."

Merlin shivers, turning to face the door and Arthur takes a moment to look at him: his black hair against the pale nape of his neck, the slim waist and hips that look so lovely with Arthur's large hands framing them. His arse, or what there is of it.

Arthur feels his mouth dry up knowing what he's about to do, and he licks his lips, leans in and unbuckles Merlin's belt, letting it fall to the floor. Whispers, "Strip" in Merlin's ear.

While Merlin is lifting his shirt above his head, Arthur trails his fingers over Merlin's skin, feeling how smooth and cool he feels under Arthur's hands. So much lovely pale skin to be sucked and bitten and licked and touched and Arthur could so easily be distracted by this, by all of Merlin, just losing himself in his body for hours.

But that isn't what he wants right now. He unlaces Merlin's breeches and pulls them down, exposing his arse and thighs and calves as they go. Merlin kicks his boots off and the breeches with them and once his socks are gone he's completely naked, his skin starting to flush and it makes Arthur's belly fill with liquid heat.

Arthur runs a hand over Merlin's arse and whispers into the back of his neck, "You didn't think I noticed the way you flushed when I threatened to spank you, did you? I saw the way your cheeks went hot, the way you squirmed. It made you hard, didn't it?"

Merlin nods, slowly.

"One day," Arthur says, voice low, "I'm going to lay you out on my lap and spank your arse till it goes as red as your cheeks did, feel it all hot under my hand."

"Yes," Merlin hisses. "I want that."

"I know you do," Arthur says, scraping his teeth on Merlin's skin. "I always know, don't I?"

"Please," Merlin begs, and Gods, Arthur will never get tired of hearing Merlin beg for him. It makes him feel like he's King.

"Soon," he says, licking a stripe down from the nape of Merlin's neck to the hollow in his lower back. "But right now I want you to spread your legs for me."

Merlin moans as Arthur drops to his knees. He widens his stance a little and Arthur slaps him once with an open palm, says, "Wider" and Merlin obeys, making the most delicious little bitten-off whimper.

Arthur gets his hands on Merlin's arse and spreads him, whispers, "You're going to love this," and runs his tongue down the cleft of Merlin's arse, brief and not at all enough judging by the way Merlin is already pushing back, trying to get Arthur's tongue on him again.

"Told you," Arthur says, smirking.

He licks him again, his tongue lapping back and forth over his hole. Merlin's hands are on the door, bracing himself there and his face is pushed against it.

Arthur makes sure lots of warm breath ghosts over Merlin's hole as he whispers, "Touch yourself. Want to see you fall apart while I tongue your arse, Merlin."

"Gods, you really love the sound of your own voice, don't you?"

Merlin is trying for insulting, but he can't pull it off. His voice sounds so ragged and raw and Arthur's barely started. It is, he thinks, the hottest thing in the world when Merlin drops his hand down and Arthur can see from the movement of it that he's touching himself, stripping his cock with fast, rough strokes.

Arthur holds Merlin open with his thumbs and dives back in. He just licks first, wet laps of his tongue, but soon he wants more. Wanting to make his jaw ache and he pushes in, his tongue wriggling inside Merlin's hole, fucking him with it. Arthur loves this, loves knowing that he's making Merlin fucking _crazy_ and he can tell from Merlin's bitten off groans that he's close.

He pulls back, whispers, "Make as much noise as you like, Merlin. I want them to hear you. All of them."

Arthur slides a finger inside. Merlin's so wet now, so wet and hot and tight and he pushes his tongue back in alongside his finger, fucking him with both.

Merlin is babbling now, a mixture of sounds and words that are half coherent and half completely not. He sounds so desperate, so frantic, his voice raw with pleasure and Arthur loves this so much, loves knowing that he makes Merlin feel like this: all twisted up and inside out and needing him, because that's how Merlin makes _him_ feel.

He is overheating, his hair plastered to his forehead with perspiration and his chin so wet. He's making noises all of his own, little hungry moans as Merlin starts thrusting his hips back, trying to fuck himself on Arthur's tongue and finger.

Arthur could do this for hours, he thinks, but he doesn't have the chance to because Merlin's entire body tenses and he's moaning, keening Arthur's name as Arthur fucks him through his orgasm.

As soon as Merlin's finished, panting shallowly against the door, Arthur gets to his feet, ignoring the ache in his jaw and the stiffness in his knees. He turns Merlin around and grabs him by the hair, pushing him back against the door and kissing him hard and wet and open, pushing his tongue inside and making Merlin taste himself.

He unbuckles his belt and unlaces his breeches and pushes his hand inside, stroking himself hard and rough. He comes embarrassingly fast, shouting his own string of shameful words into Merlin's mouth. Words that he will deny later if Merlin tries to bring it up.

They fall to the floor together: messy and wet and filthy, Merlin naked and Arthur still mostly clothed.

"Uh—" Merlin is obviously trying to think of something to say, but he doesn't manage to finish it.

"I really have missed your intelligent conversation, Merlin," Arthur says, his voice completely wrecked. "Honestly, I don't know what I'd do without it."

"Oh shut up," Merlin says, but there's no heat in it. "You know you'd wither and die without me."

Arthur pretends he doesn't hear it, but he knows that's probably true.


End file.
